


here is the deepest secret nobody knows

by jeyhawk



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-02
Updated: 2010-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeyhawk/pseuds/jeyhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Future fic.</i> Eight years and a hundred songs later Adam shows up on Kris's bus-step and follows him on tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here is the deepest secret nobody knows

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://geeklite.livejournal.com/profile)[**geeklite**](http://geeklite.livejournal.com/) who won my fic-writing services in the [](http://help-pakistan.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_pakistan**](http://help-pakistan.livejournal.com/) auction. I can't find the email with the actual prompt, but I'm sure it involved the year 2017 somehow. I hope you like it! :D
> 
> The title is taken from a poem by e.e cummings, as suggested by [](http://sbb23.livejournal.com/profile)[**sbb23**](http://sbb23.livejournal.com/) (because she's awesome like that).
> 
> As usual, a huge thanks goes out to [](http://dansetheblues.livejournal.com/profile)[**dansetheblues**](http://dansetheblues.livejournal.com/). Without her this fic would be a lot more confusing and also shorter. You're the bed to my bunk, BB. (Or, you know, the Kris to my Adam, or the something to my something that actually makes sense. )  <333
> 
>   
>    
> 

Adam shows up in Cincinnati. Kris isn't expecting him, but then you never expect someone like Adam. God knows, he didn't eight years and a hundred songs ago, and somehow it's no different now.

"I think I'm burned out," Adam says, dropping his duffel bag on Kris's bed and pulling Kris into a full-body hug. "I need to recuperate."

"Okay," Kris says, slotting his face into the familiar crook of Adam's neck, just holding on.

*

"Adam broke up with me," Adam says over breakfast the next morning. "And I found another white hair."

He seems to be more broken up about the hair (his tenth; Kris knows this because Adam has told him about each one in excruciatingly painful detail).

"Adam?" Kris enquires, because last time he checked Adam was dating some guy named Nathan.

"Choreographer," Adam says, rolling his eyes. "High-strung and high-maintenance and the name thing was a bitch."

"I can't ever imagine someone named Adam being high-strung and high-maintenance," Kris says and gets punched for his trouble.

They smile at each other over a table stacked high with dishes and somewhere deep inside Kris's chest something familiar stirs.

*

Adam is a card shark. If he hadn't decided to be a rockstar he could easily have made millions in the poker circuit. Maybe it's because no one expects it of him, but Kris has yet to see him enter a card game and come out on the losing side.

It takes the guys a while to catch on, which is how they all end up owing Adam excessive amounts of money that he'll never cash in on. (They stop playing for petty cash after the first night because they take getting trashed over and over by a 6'1 glam smurf (Chris's words, Adam thinks it's hilarious) _personally_.)

Kris is a pretty good player himself, better than most of the band (it's his innocent face, no one believes that he's sitting with a full house when he smiles at them so very sweetly across the table) but he's no match for Adam, which is why he rarely plays. He prefers to sit back with his guitar balanced across his knees watching Adam win, and win, and win, the smile on his face growing with every hand.

Sometimes he strums his fingers across the strings, playing snippets of whatever song comes to mind but most of the time he just watches - fascinated by the way his life just shapes itself around Adam as if he's always been there. He expected things to be weird, at least for a while, but they just _aren't_ and he doesn't know what to make of that.

*

"All of these years and Cale still has the hots for you," Adam remarks two days later. "That's pretty sad."

Kris rolls his eyes and shoves Adam in the shoulder. "All of these years and you still come to me for comfort. Now that's pretty sad."

It's not like Kris isn't aware of the way Cale looks at him, of the way Cale has always looked at him, but Kris had Katy and Cale has Katie, and there was never a need to take things beyond friendship.

"I have to admit he has a point though," Adam says, waggling his eyebrows. "You're still pretty hot."

"Don't lie, Lambert," Kris retorts. "I'm smokin' and you know it."

Adam cracks up and Kris grins. Making Adam laugh was always one of his best talents.

*

"Tommy's getting married," Adam says the next night, lying on Kris's hotel bed (that seems to be theirs now since Adam failed to get his own room) with his hands knotted under his head. He looks relaxed, easy, but Kris's knows him better than that.

"Jealous?" he asks.

Adam shrugs. "Maybe."

Kris waits, because Adam's not the kind to make ambiguous statements. He once spent an entire night, expanding on the terms of his crush on Kris.

"I'm not jealous that he's marrying someone else," Adam finally says. "I love Cindy, she's kooky, but I'm jealous that he's getting _married_ , you know?"

"Yeah," Kris says, lying down next to Adam, close enough that Adam's bent elbow brushes his ear. "I do know."

"At least you've been married," Adam says. He sounds almost wistful as if being a divorcee is some kind of accomplishment. "I never even got close."

"Marriage is not really all it's cracked up to be," Kris says, staring up at the ceiling. It's been months, a year maybe, since he last talked to Katy. They were better at the keeping-in-touch thing right after the divorce when every conversation was like pulling teeth. Maybe it's because it doesn't hurt anymore and that somehow that makes it feel even more like a failure.

Adam sighs. "It's not even about getting married," he says. "It's just…"

"Longevity," Kris murmurs.

"Exactly."

*

"I want to grow old with you. Is that weird?"

Kris laughs, startled, even though he should be used to Adam's non-sequiturs by now.

"I mean it," Adam says. "When I imagine myself in twenty years’ time, it's always with you."

"I don't know if it's weird," Kris says, flattening his hand against the body of the guitar on his lap. "Pathetic, maybe, but not weird."

"Well, I couldn't let you corner the market on pathetic," Adam says on a yawn. "Play me that song again."

Kris does, and if it's a little more heartfelt this time, none of them remarks on it.

*

"I'm physically attracted to you." Kris takes a sip from the beer clutched in his hand, but his eyes don't leave Adam's face.

"What can I say?" Adam asks, grinning. "Everyone wants a piece of this."

He rolls over on his stomach and pushes himself up on all fours, wriggling his sweats-clad ass in Kris's face.

"Tell me Allen, does this get you hot?"

Kris laughs and swats at one of the firm cheeks. "I can barely contain myself," he deadpans.

Adam flops back down on the bed and rolls over again, legs spreading in invitation. He's hard, the impressive outline of his cock easy to trace where it curves against the threadbare fabric of the sweatpants. Adam grins, completely shameless, and reaches for his glass, trailing condensation on the night stand.

"Get back to me when you're ready to ride it, cowboy," he says.

Kris nods and takes another sip from his beer, his eyes don't stray from Adam's crotch.

*

Adam's phone starts ringing while he's in the shower. Kris is going to ignore it, he really is, but the third time the truly obnoxious ringtone starts over, he rolls over and picks it up, looking at the display, Neil, before pressing answer.

"Adam's phone, this is Kris," he says.

"Kris?" There's a beat of silence. "Kris Allen?"

"The one and only," Kris confirms, settling back against the pillows with Neil's startled laugh in his ear. He hasn't seen Neil for like a year, the last time was a rushed dinner in New York after some radio station performance.

"So," Neil says when he's finally stopped laughing. "How have you been?"

"Uhm… Good?" Kris doesn't mean for it to come out as a question but it does anyway. It's weird to look back an entire year in time and realize that for all that happened nothing really _happened_. Until now.

"Do you want to try that again with a little more certainty?" Neil asks, and Kris can picture him smiling.

"I've been good," Kris says, firm and decisive, even if nothing happened he hasn't been unhappy. "You?"

"Same. Got a new job, new girl, new car, same place. You know how it is."

"New girl again?" Kris asks. "Keep it up and you're going to make Adam seem like the committed one."

Neil laughs. "Oh please, we both know there's really only been one boy for Adam since the two of you met," he says, flippant and careless – easy.

Kris is about to answer when the bathroom door opens and Adam spills out amidst a cloud of steam. "Who're you talking to?" he asks, bending forward to wrap a towel around his hair.

Kris stares at the water glistening on Adam's freckled skin and his mouth feels dry. "Your brother," he says, unable to help the way his cheeks flush.

"Neil?" Adam grins. "Gimme."

Kris mutely hands the phone over and after a moment of consideration he rolls off the bed and slips into the damp bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. He sits down on the toilet seat and tries not to listen at the soft murmur of Adam's voice reaching him through the door.

Somehow Neil's offhand remark hit it home that this is really happening. They're not just toeing the line, they're purposely erasing it, and it's both the scariest and most exhilarating thing to ever happen to him.

*

Kris tells his dad first.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

The conversation tapered off some time ago, both of them busy, but staying on the line because there's comfort to be found in the connection that doesn't need to be articulated.

"Would you tell mom to stop sending me care packages if I entered into a relationship with Adam?"

The keyboard tapping on the other end stops abruptly and Kris waits, willfully clicking a mine to end his current game. He always feels bad when he does that, as if he's actually blowing up more than squares on a grid. He blames Adam for that; he was the one that cracked the idea one night that maybe the game was real and their clicking was the only thing saving little kiddies from stepping on mines. He was high at the time and Kris knows it's not really so, but whenever he loses a game he can't help but to think - _what if?_

"Would this relationship make you happy?" Neil eventually asks. He sounds shaken, but not particularly surprised.

"Yes," Kris answers simply.

"Then I would tell her to add an extra batch of fudge cookies for Adam."

Kris smiles and starts another game. This time he's determined to keep the kiddies safe.

*

"We're already good at living together," Adam remarks one evening. "So I don't think we'd have a problem there."

"And we've been doing the long distance thing for years," Kris agrees.

"I'm used to your disgusting habit of leaving wet towels in unexpected places."

"And I've finally found a cleaner that can remove hair color stains from the shower."

"I've learned to deal with your habit of wearing the same jeans for a week."

"And I don't mind that you sometimes change outfits three times a day."

Adam looks from the floor where he's been rummaging through his bag for the last half hour. He's wearing a new shirt and his jeans are not the ones he put on this morning. He grins and Kris can't help his answering smile.

"Besides," Kris adds. "I know all about your moods."

"And I know better than to disturb you when you're writing."

Adam disturbs Kris when he's writing all the time, but Kris refrains from pointing it out. It's not like he minds Adam's distractions most of the time.

"I know all your embarrassing secrets," Kris says, smiling.

"And I know about that one time you couldn't get it up," Adam retorts.

Kris laughs, reaching out with one of his feet to shove Adam in the shoulder. "I told you that in confidence," he says.

Adam looks at him with wide-eyed innocence. "But you didn't say anything about mocking."

"Guy code," Kris says. "You don't ever bring that sort of thing up."

"Gay code," Adam retorts. "It's always okay to talk about dick."

Kris cracks up again and Adam smiles, boyish and happy. They'll work, that was never really a question.

*

There's always a hint of black smudged around Adam's eyes, no matter how often he showers, and his lips look glossy even without gloss. He manages to look fierce even in sweats and a threadbare t-shirt and even his bed-hair looks deliberate. It's fascinating, and Kris can't help the way he stares.

"You're always looking at me," Adam remarks one morning, makeup half done and jeans unbuttoned. He half turns to give Kris a smile, easily catching Kris's eyes from where they'd gotten stuck on the wide expanse of Adam's freckled shoulders. "What's that all about?"

Kris shrugs, not embarrassed. "I like what I see."

Adam smiles again, uncertain, and Kris wonders what kind of demons are moving through his head.

"It's like…" Kris makes a half-formed gesture. "You're always you."

Adam chuckles, turning back to the mirror. "I don't know how to be anyone else."

"Exactly."

Adam makes a face at him in the mirror and Kris doesn't think he gets it, not really.

"You never hide behind a mask," Kris says. "People may think that the makeup and the clothes make the man, but they're wrong."

Adam blinks, smiling almost shyly. "That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," he murmurs.

Kris smiles, making a dismissive gesture. "And that's why you still come to me for comfort."

They way Adam's smile widens and his eyes take on a predatory edge tells Kris that's not it at all.

*

  
They play a show in Arkansas, and Kris and Adam stay overnight with Kris's parents in the guestroom that was once Kris's bedroom.

"There's only one bed," Adam says, looking around as if another bed will suddenly burst out of the closet fully made.

"So?" Kris asks, sitting down on the edge of it. He's not sure why Adam's surprised. They've been sharing a bed off and on for a couple of weeks now.

Adam licks his lips, looking around again. "But your parents…"

"Know about us," Kris continues, making a vague gesture. "Or… well… You know."

He trails off, not sure if there's a way to aptly describe their situation.

"Oh." Adam blinks a couple of times. "You told them?"

"Yeah." Kris shrugs. "Seemed like the proper thing to do."

Adam smiles, it's shaky around the edges but Kris pretends not to notice. "I would love to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation."

Kris laughs and lies back on the bed, spreading his arms out. "It was all very mundane. You didn't miss a thing."

Adam moves closer, making a space for himself between Kris's spread knees. "So did you tell them we're not actually _sleeping_ together?"

Adam looks about a hundred miles tall from Kris's vantage point, and not for the first time he wonders _why_ they are not sleeping together.

"We sleep together all the time," he says flippantly, pulling one leg up to rest against the edge of the bed.

Adam's smile pulls into a smirk, his eyes heavy and dark. "Believe me, baby. You ain't seen nothing yet."

Kris grins, though he suspects Adam meant to make him blush. "Promises, promises," he sighs, sliding his foot up to rest against Adam's hip. "I've been ready to ride it for quite some time now, cowboy."

Adam's eyes dart towards the door and then he looks back down at Kris.

"You little shit," he says, wrapping his fingers around Kris's ankle and pulling his foot away. "Like you have any intention of following through under your parents' roof."

Kris laughs, letting his legs fall open, knees bracketing Adam's thighs. _You have no idea,_ he thinks, but when Adam moves away, he lets him.

*

Kris wakes up cold and it takes him a moment to push through the sleep fog and realize why.

"You're naked again."

Kris blinks and turns his head against the pillows to peer blearily at Adam, who's standing beside the bed clutching the covers to his chest, as if he's some kind of old-fashioned damsel in distress.

"I wouldn't be, if you hadn't stolen the covers," Kris points out. He spares a vague befuddled thought for where his clothes are, but he does have a habit of kicking them off while he sleeps that has gotten him into many awkward situations over the years.

"You have to stop being naked," Adam says, flailing a hand in Kris's direction. "Stop it."

Kris wonders what exactly Adam thinks the covers will shield him from. Naked cooties?

"Or…" Kris says. "You could stop looking."

Adam blinks a couple of times and licks his lips. "Yeah," he says, slow and dragging. "That's not going to happen."

Kris rolls his eyes and snuggles into the pillows. "Then bring the covers back, it's so not time to get up yet." He hides his smile against the pillowcase when the bed dips with Adam's weight.

"Just so you know," Adam murmurs. "Naked cuddling is crossing a line."

"Does it count as naked if you're fully clothed?" Kris asks, happily curling into a ball for Adam to clutch.

"Believe me," Adam says darkly. "If we were both naked we so wouldn't be cuddling right now."

Kris wriggles his shoulder into Adam's armpit for ultimate comfort and lets his eyes slip shut. He's pretty sure they crossed the line when they started sharing a bed, but if Adam wants to argue semantics that's fine by Kris - at least as long as he doesn't try to take cuddling out of the equation.

*

There is always a moment before a show, one terrifying moment where Kris thinks, _I can't do this._ In that instant every chord, every lyric, every song is wiped from his mind, leaving a huge gaping hole of nothing. Then he reaches out for the mike and it all comes rushing back – exhilarating, _amazing_ \- and he's soaring before he's even opened his mouth. Adam is the only one that ever noticed.

"I love watching the way your face shifts," he says, pressed up against the wall of Kris's bunk, too large to fit but determined to stay. "It's like being sucker-punched but in a good way."

"There's a good way to get sucker-punched?" Kris asks, because talking about it is embarrassing. People are not supposed to _know_.

"You know what I mean," Adam answers, impatient. "I'm trying to be deep here."

"And failing at it."

Adam huffs, reaching out to touch the side of Kris's face. "I'm trying to tell you that you're beautiful, okay? Don't ruin the moment."

Kris doesn't have to because Cale chooses that moment to rap his knuckles against the bunk frame, coughing politely.

"I hope you're not naked in there," he says.

"Only in my dreams," Adam retorts, reaching across Kris to pull the curtains open. "Did you want something?"

"We're stopping for food," Cale says and Kris feels the mattress shift with the weight of his hands as he looks in. "I was just making sure you were decent."

Kris turns his head against the pillows to look up at Cale. "McDonalds?" he asks.

"Chick-Fil-A, I think," Cale answers and Adam muffles a groan into Kris's shirt.

Cale smirks. "McDonalds," he mouths with a wink, before he straightens up and walks out to join the others again.

Kris can't help his grin, or the odd bubbly happiness that comes with it. It's not really Cale's lame prank but the fact that he made it at all. It means Adam's one of them now, really and truly, and it makes Kris's chest feel full.

*

Kris likes to watch Adam write. His creative process is nothing like Kris's, it uses up a whole lot more paper, and more often than not ends with Adam throwing the journal across the room with a frustrated noise.

"It's so easy for you," Adam says one day, watching his journal bounce against the wall and land flat on the carpet. "You just sit down and suddenly there's a song. I write and write and write, but it never seems quite right."

Kris picks the journal up, flattening the bent pages and folding it shut, putting it down on the bedside table.

"It's not easy for me," he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his back to Adam. "I'm just less prone to dramatic gestures."

"Did you just call me a drama queen?" Adam asks, poking Kris's side. "That is not nice Kristopher."

Kris smiles, at a joke so old it should have been retired years ago, and turns to look at Adam over his shoulder.

"If the shoe fits…"

He's not surprised when Adam pounces, and he's even less surprised when Adam pulls away later, flushed and grinning to pick up the journal again. For all their talking it seems that they're as reluctant to cross the line as they ever were.

*

"So, he's just following you around now?" Matt looks across the room, at where Adam is lost in conversation with Andrew. "Isn't that kind of weird?"

Kris spins his beer bottle between his fingers, eyes reluctant to leave Adam's face. He looks happy, carefree like Kris hasn't seen him in a long time. It's mesmerizing to watch.

"He needed a break," he eventually says, forcing his eyes to seek out Matt's familiar face.

Matt smiles, too knowing, and shakes his head. "Yeah," he says. "That's not it."

It's funny how it's been so many years and nothing’s really changed. Matt is still the loveable goof that sees more than he lets on. Unpolished, earnest, funny, humble, yet cocky.

"Maybe not," Kris agrees, eyes searching out Adam again. "Maybe that's not it at all."

"So you're…" Matt trails off, not quite formulating the question he wants to ask. It seems married life taught him a thing or two about decorum.

Kris shakes his head. "No," he says, catching Matt's eyes. "We're not."

Matt nods, taking a swig from his beer. "But you want to be."

Kris doesn't argue and Matt laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"It's like Idol all over again," he says, wheezing. "The two of you tiptoeing around each other as if everyone didn't already _know_."

Kris wonders what they thought they knew then, but he doesn't ask. It's not that hard to guess.

*

Adam's presence doesn't go unnoticed and with every interview the questions get a little more impatient and a little more pointed.

"Are you working on something together?" _Not at the moment, no._

"Is there's something you'd like to tell us?" _Yes, my second single will be revealed next week._

"Are you still single?" _Mostly, yeah._

"What's Adam like in bed?" _Why don't you ask him that question?_

"Is it true that you're dating now?" _Define ‘dating.’_

"Tell us the truth, is Adam Lambert your new boyfriend?" _New? We've always been boy friends._

"I'm not going to lie, I've been waiting for this since you came out as bisexual." _Define ‘this.’_

*

Allison comes out to the show in Orlando. Seven months pregnant and glowing with it she looks nothing like the girl Kris once got to know on a reality TV show. She still acts the same though, throwing her arms around his neck the moment he comes off stage, so excited she's bouncing with it.

"I swear you just keep getting better," she says. "You were on fire out there. FIRE."

Kris laughs, carefully removing her arms from around his neck to look at her, really look at her, for the first time in a good long while.

"You grew up," he says, smiling and wistful all at once.

"You mean this?" She grins, resting a hand against her extended stomach. "Don't let the belly fool ya. I'm still twelve at heart."

Kris laughs, because he has to, because she’s just the same even when she's not.

"Come on," she says, tugging at his elbow to get him moving. "Adam's meeting us at the restaurant and you know he's going to blame me if we're late."

Kris lets himself be pulled forward and falls into step with her. Adam's at a photoshoot; he thought he'd be back in time for the show, but it must have run late. Kris fishes his phone out of his pocket, going through his texts while Allison tells him about the nursery they just finished. (Fairytale themed, it sounds awesome enough that Kris wants to move in.)

 _Glitter everywhere. I'll need a spoon to scoop it out of my ass crack._

 _Light problems. Bored now. You're probably on stage already._

 _Allison!!!!!!!!!_

 _The baby kicked my HAND! Wish you were here._

 _Sending her to you now. Sorry I made her miss the beginning. :(_

 _Not going to make it to the show. Will meet you at the restaurant._

 _Allison says you killed INTK tonight. That's my favorite damn it._

Kris doesn't even realize he's stopped walking until Allison pinches his arm. He looks up, sheepish, only to be met by her smile.

"So you and Adam, huh?" she says. "Took you long enough."

He scrubs at the back of his neck. "We're not really…" He trails off, not sure how to continue.

She laughs. "I know." She reaches out to pull on his arm again. "But you will be."

Kris wants to ask her how she knows, if maybe Adam told her something, but he lets the quiet certainty in her voice be enough. She's known them since they got to know each other; if anyone understands, it's her.

"So," he says instead, bumping her shoulder gently. "Did you decide on a name yet?"

"Don't even get me started," she says, but the monologue lasts all the way through Kris's shower, change of clothes, and the cab ride to the restaurant anyway. Conclusion: Balthazar would be a horrible baby name, especially if it turns out to be a girl.

*

"Your PR is doing a crap job at filtering questions," Adam remarks one night, watching some clip on YouTube. He's got his earphones plugged in, making it impossible to tell exactly what he's listening to.

Kris looks over Adam's shoulders, glancing at his iPhone screen. The label says Y100 Interview, it doesn't tell him much. The radio stations started bleeding together weeks ago.

"I told them not to," he says, looking past Adam at his own reflection in the bus window.

Adam pulls one of the plugs out, giving Kris a quizzical look. "Why?"

Kris shrugs. He doesn't really want to relive the very uncomfortable conversation that led to that decision.

"It'll make it easier," he finally says. "In the long run."

"Make what easier?" Adam looks like he really doesn't understand and it makes Kris's stomach clench. Maybe they're not on the same page, maybe all of this is just the same kind of mostly harmless flirting that has always been a part of their relationship, maybe he's been making wrongful assumptions all along.

"Hey," Adam says, voice dipping low. "Talk to me."

Kris glances around, everyone is seemingly busy with their own thing, but he supposes it's too much to think they're not listening.

"This," he says, making a vague gesture between them. "Us."

His cheeks light up, burning with something that could be embarrassment, but mostly feels like shame.

"Oh," Adam murmurs, eyes going soft. " _Oh._ "

Kris looks away from Adam's face, avoiding the strange look in his eyes, because he's not sure it isn't pity. Maybe all of this has only been a game for Adam, a way to step up the flirting that always came too easy to them. He flinches when Adam touches his hand, but it morphs into a smile when Adam links their fingers together. Adam's palm is a little sweaty and Kris doesn't think he's imagining the tremble to Adam's fingers. Maybe they're on the same page after all.

*

In Memphis Kris has to say goodbye to Cale. He's a husband now, and a father, determined to do right by his wife and daughters by never staying away for longer than a month at a time.

"See you in two weeks," Cale says, flippant and smiling. "Don't miss me too much."

He's got his guitar slung across his back in a battered case, and a duffel bag weighing down his shoulder. He looks every inch the weary traveler and not for the first time Kris wonders how long he'll be willing to keep doing this.

"I'll try not to," Kris says. "Give my love to Katie and the girls."

"I will," Cale promises, turning towards the door, but instead of opening it he pauses with his hand wrapped around the handle to look at Kris over his shoulder. He looks like he wants to say something, the lines on his forehead deepening, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls the door open.

"See you," he says and then he's gone.

*

"You miss him."

It's a statement, not a question, but Kris shrugs anyway. "I guess."

"Jake's pretty good though."

Jake is Cale's replacement. He's young, ambitious, good looking in that slacker kind of way, and probably a much better guitar player than Kris has any hope of ever being. He's cocky and self-assured in a way that grates almost as often as it's liberating, and Kris never really managed to make up his mind about him.

"He's more than pretty good," Kris says. "Give him a few years and he'll have his own spot in the hall of fame."

Adam snorts. "With that attitude he'll drag himself down before gets there."

Kris shrugs. "He reminds me of someone else I know. I think he's found that the attitude brought him exactly where he wants to be."

Adam sputters. "I'm _nothing_ like Jake."

Kris smirks. "Maybe not," he agrees.

Adam's got the cockiness down pat, but the ginger kid living in his head will always keep him grounded. It's almost funny how something that was a curse twenty years ago is now a blessing, giving Adam a way to deal with fame by being firmly anchored in the past.

"I wish I was the kind of diva people make me out to be," Adam says, almost pensive. "It would be nice to really not give a fuck, you know?"

Kris shakes his head, smiling. "Sweetheart, I don't think you _know_ how to stop caring."

"Sweetheart?" Adam asks, looking vaguely nauseated. "Really?"

Kris rolls his eyes. "Get used to it pumpkin-pie. You know I'm all about the cutesy nicknames."

Adam laughs, shaking his head. "Whatever you say…. Princess."

*

Adam doesn't trail after Kris all the time. He meets up with friends, does the odd interview or photoshoot, and if they stay long enough in one place he might even squeeze in some studio time. He keeps in touch with his management, and his assistant (a harried boy named Joshua that Adam doesn't want to dislike but does anyway) drops in occasionally to handle the odd bits and pieces that there's just no way to take a break from when you're a rockstar.

Kris doesn't always have the time to miss him, too busy with his own duties, but sometimes he looks across the room and experiences this weird pang in his chest just because Adam isn't there. Logically he knows that Adam hasn't been there for most of his life, not since Idol at any rate, and logically, he knows that Adam will continue to not be there when this temporary insanity passes.

Logic, it seems, has nothing to do with it.

*

Cale to Kris:

 _So… are you doing it yet?_

Kris to Cale:

 _???_

Cale to Kris:

 _Don't play coy with me, mister. Kate wants to know._

Kris to Cale:

 _No, really. What?_

Cale to Kris:

 _You. Adam. IT!_

Kris to Cale:

 _I will pretend you never brought that up._

Cale to Kris:

 _I'll call Andrew..._

Kris to Cale:

 _Fine, and NO._

Cale to Kris:

 _Seriously? What are you waiting for? A gold embossed invite?_

Kris to Cale:

 _The right moment?_

Cale to Kris:

 _I was teetering on the edge between incredibly lame and hopelessly romantic… LAME JUST WON._

Kris to Cale:

 _You suck._

Cale to Kris:

 _So do you, so why don't you get on that?_

Kris to Cale:

 _I hate you and we will have words when you get back._

Cale to Kris:

 _If those words are not: Cale I'd like you to meet the love of my life. We're done professionally._

Cale to Kris:

 _Seriously though, he makes you happy. He ALWAYS made you happy. It's been almost ten years, don't you think that means something?_

Sometimes Kris forgets that beyond the surface there's a man with a heart of gold - good friend, loving husband, devoted father. Sometimes Kris forgets that Cale _knows_ him like no one else.

*

Kris flirts with everyone. It's not deliberate, it just happens that way, maybe because he can never back down from a challenge. He doesn't mean anything by it, the banter is surface deep at most, and most people get that. But every once in a while someone comes along that just won't get a hint and Kris finds himself cornered. He really should know better than to flirt in bars.

"Maybe you'd like to take this somewhere else…"

The guy, Mark, is pretty, Kris will give him that, but he's too drunk and too close, making Kris feel more uncomfortable than adventurous.

"No, that's alright," Kris says, scrubbing a hand over his neck. "I like it here."

Mark looks around, the décor is gaudy at best and the 90's music plays at a volume that makes polite conversations impossible. It's not the best excuse Kris ever came up with.

"Well, wasn't that a shitty excuse," Mark says, laughing as if it's actually funny. "Are you afraid I'll kiss and _tell_?"

Kris was hoping that Mark maybe didn't recognize him, but obviously he did. The poster advertising the sold out Kris Allen concert taped to the front door, probably made anonymity a pipe dream even among people who wouldn't normally give him the time of day.

"Of course not," Kris says, shifting his feet. "It's just that I'm… uh… kind of taken?"

Sometimes Kris really misses having a wedding ring, it was an awesome come-on repellent (not 100% of course, some people just don’t _care_ ).

"Kind of?" Mark smirks. "I can turn that question mark into an exclamation in no time."

Kris has to stifle his laugh, because yeah, there was a reason he was idly flirting with Mark in the first place.

"Make that definitely," a dark voice says behind Kris's back, just before one of Adam's hands curl around Kris's wrist and pulls him out of Mark's range.

"Oh," Mark says, blinking rapidly. "You're Adam Lambert."

" _I'm_ Kris's boyfriend," Adam says coldly. "Now fuck off."

Mark does and Kris is kind of impressed - that would never have worked for him. Mark's probably dialing TMZ as they speak, but he moved.

"Having fun are we?" Adam asks, directing his angry glare at Kris now that Mark is no longer in the equation.

"Yes," Kris says, nodding solemnly. "I love getting hit on."

Adam's eyes narrow dangerously and his nostrils flare. "You are _taken_ ," he says. "There's nothing kind of about it."

Kris resists his urge to roll his eyes and props his elbows up against the bar. "Would you like a brand to go with that statement?" he asks.

"Yes." Adam blinks. "No. I mean…" Adam shakes his head, making a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. "You," he says. "I just want you."

Kris smiles. "You already have me," he says. He wants to go on, he wants to tell Adam he can do anything, _beg_ him to do anything, but the soft, soft look in Adam's eyes is almost enough, a promise of better things yet to come. Things that cannot, should not, be played out in a crowded tacky bar.

*

Their first kiss, when it finally comes, takes Kris completely by surprise. They're in the dressing room, after the show. Kris has just pulled on his jeans after a cursory shower and Adam's leaning against the empty makeup table fully dressed. (Kris's jeans are the same ones he wore to the bar the night before, Adam's ensemble is one that Kris has never seen before. It shouldn't be important, but somehow it is, because it's so _them_.)

"Good show tonight," Adam says, watching as Kris pulls a clean t-shirt over his head.

"Good crowd," Kris agrees, reaching for the hoodie hanging from a hook on the wall.

He always gets cold once the adrenaline wears off after a show, cold and tired, ready to sleep a hundred years if they'd let him. It's in moments like these, in the calm after a show, that the doubts creep up on him. After Idol he was certain he'd fade into obscurity with his second album, certain that the fans would leave him with the new season, and convinced that Adam's polarizing performances would make his seem bland, boring. He'd seen it happen so many times before and he wasn't sure he'd have the energy, the will, to recharge, but he did and here he is – eight years later with four albums under his belt, a fifth underway, and headlining his own mostly sold out tour.

His doubts these days have nothing to do with music - he knows he can do it, he knows he's good enough. These days he thinks about missed opportunities, dead ends, and the solemn fear of growing old alone. He thinks about his failed marriage, of all the people that have come and gone since then, but most of all he thinks about Adam.

"I miss performing," Adam says now, uncrossing his legs. "It's a high like nothing else."

Kris hums in agreement and reaches for his messenger bag. No matter how mellow he gets afterwards, the sheer high of being on stage makes up for it every time.

"Hey."

Kris twitches when Adam's hand lands on his shoulder, he didn't hear Adam move.

"Maybe you're the one that needs a break," Adam says, sliding his hand up to cup Kris's face, rubbing his thumb along Kris's cheekbone.

Kris lets his eyes flutter shut. "I'll follow you on tour next," he murmurs, smiling a little at the thought.

Adam's always charged with energy after a performance, talking a mile a minute with lips and hands. They were the perfect match during the Idol tour, tempering each other's excesses, but Idol was a long time ago and maybe Adam forgot.

"Please do," Adam whispers and then his lips touch Kris's, whisper soft, almost dreamlike and Kris would have thought he imagined it if Adam didn't immediately kiss him again.

Kris doesn't even open his eyes. He just lets himself fall into the kiss, bringing his hands up to link behind Adam's neck, holding him in place. Somehow he always thought their first kiss would be messy and desperate, fueled by weeks – years – of pent up sexual frustration, but this is nothing if not soft, languid. Adam kisses like they have all the time in the world and maybe they do. Kris would gladly cancel the rest of his tour if Adam just promised to keep on kissing him.

He's hard, the hot line of his dick rubbing up against Adam's thigh when they shift to get closer – more – but it's not urgent. It's more an acknowledgement of desire years in the making than an urgent need to get off.

Everything falls away until the only thing that exists is the slow, slick slide of lips and tongues, and the sweet press of their bodies. Kris doesn't hear the door opening, but he does hear the sudden sound that makes Adam pull away.

He blinks a couple of times, trying to get his bearing beyond the rush of blood in his ears and spots Maria, his PA, standing just inside the door with a clipboard clutched to her chest. She doesn't look shocked exactly, more exasperated, and she shakes her head when she meets Kris's eyes with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Bus," she says. "Now."

Kris nods, but he doesn't untangle his fingers from around Adam's neck.

"I mean it, Kristopher."

Kris wonders why everyone breaks out his full name to scold him. Shouldn't that be saved for people in special relationships, like marriage? He knows they're on a tight schedule, but getting to their next show on time doesn't seem half as important as Adam's lips right now.

Adam chuckles as if Kris actually said that out loud and presses one last kiss against Kris's temple. "We better do as the lady says," he murmurs, reaching up to remove Kris's hands from around his neck.

 _Later,_ his eyes promise, and Kris finally lets go.

*

At thirty-two Kris thought he'd grown out of teenage hormones and ridiculous behavior, but maybe not so much. From their first kiss to actual privacy there's an endless stretch of bus nights and since Kris still hasn't reached the level of rock star where he feels the need for a private bedroom (he gets enough of silent and alone at home) he and Adam are stuck in different bunks, reliving their Idol tour days without the chaperone of Kris's marriage.

They steal moments everywhere they can - dressing rooms, bathrooms, supply closets, storage rooms, even one time on a deserted stage (big open space doesn't matter as long as no one's watching). The escalation of their relationship isn't exactly a secret, everyone's walked in on them at one point or another, expressing varying degrees of mortification or amusement (Jake suggests they get a room, then he proceeds to laugh so hard he almost throws up. Kris thinks that maybe he likes the guy after all), but that doesn't mean they're any more likely to give them _actual_ privacy.

By the time Vegas (and three glorious hotel nights) rolls around Kris is about ready to cut Adam's clothes off his body and have his wicked way with him in the middle of a crowded room. He doesn't care in the slightest about the laugh everyone has on his behalf when he drags Adam with him to check in the moment the bus pulls up to the curb and he happily ignores the sudden camera flash probably capturing the way he's clutching Adam's wrist.

"Now Perez is going to draw come on my face again," Adam says mournfully when Kris pulls him up to the front desk.

As far as Kris knows Perez stopped that tired gag years ago, around the time he went on Celebrity Rehab for his embarrassing chocolate addiction, but if anyone can make him change his mind, it's probably Adam.

"If you shut up and cooperate I'm going to come on your face," Kris whispers into Adam's ear, finally letting go of his wrist.

Things go much smoother after that.

*

Their first time is up against the hotel room door, messy and too fast, both of them coming before they're even out of their clothes.

The second time is slower, kisses and touches that build into a frantic crescendo. It's Adam with his lips wrapped tight around Kris's cock, slow and languid, until Kris spills all over his face because he _promised_. And it's Kris learning the shape and taste and form of Adam's dick, struggling to take more than he can, until Adam comes, sudden and unexpected, down his throat.

The third time is Adam, poised above Kris on trembling arms with his sweat slick hair hanging messy around his face and his lips swollen and red from too much kissing. It's Kris gasping when Adam finally _finally_ pushes into him, huge and hard and absolutely perfect, filling him like no one ever did before. It's the two of them rocking in tandem, trading kisses and caresses, until Kris spills between them, gasping Adam's name over and over, until Adam's hips press up against his one last time and Adam's face goes slack with ecstasy.

It's urgent and slow, desperate and languid. It's everything Kris ever thought they would be and for the first time in his life all the pieces of his puzzle have been put together right.

*

"I can't believe I was so scared of this," Adam murmurs, much much later, with three fingers buried knuckle deep in Kris's body.

"Scared?" Kris asks, breath hitching when Adam slides his fingers _deeper_.

"Terrified," Adam confirms, mouthing whisper-soft kisses along Kris's jawline.

Kris’s breath stumbles on a groan, hips lifting into Adam's maddening touch. "Why?" he gasps.  
"That's the million dollar question," Adam answers, sliding down to lick at one of Kris's nipples.

"Not an answer," Kris points out, pulling his legs up and apart, hoping that Adam will get the hint. He doesn't of course, licking a languid kiss against Kris's stomach.

"Maybe I don't know." Adam's hair trails over Kris's skin, raising goose-bumps in its wake.

"You…" Kris sucks in a harsh breath. "You know."

"Yeah," Adam agrees, shifting up to look into Kris's eyes. "I do."

Adam looks impossibly young in the faint light coming from the lamp on the windowsill. All the lines of his face smoothed out, leaving only the boyish shine of his eyes, the tousled hair falling across his forehead and the brilliance of his smile.

"I'll tell you," Adam promises, bending down to press an open-mouthed kiss against Kris's lips. "Later."

Then Adam finally replaces his fingers with the huge slick head of his cock, pushing in excruciatingly slow even though Kris is so open – willing.

"Yeah," Kris breathes, clutching at Adam's shoulder blades. " _Please._ "

It's slow, almost sweet, the two of them moving to a song only they can hear - the slick slide of skin against skin, panted breaths and muffled moans, blending into a melody that is uniquely theirs.

Kris wants it to last forever, but he can feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine with every thrust, until it finally spills over in a brilliant crescendo, pulling a deep groan from his sore lips.

"Yes," Adam breathes, licking the sound from Kris's lips. "Like that."

Kris doesn't know what he's doing, or why it makes Adam look at him like that, but when Adam comes moments later with a last succession of staccato thrusts he supposes it doesn't really matter. What matters is that he did it right.

*

"I don't think I've ever been this tired," Kris murmurs, curling up on his side with his legs tangled between Adam's.

"Sated," Adam corrects him absently, running a hand down Kris's back before letting it settle on his hip. "The word you're looking for is sated."

Kris chuckles, moving closer so that he can feel Adam's breath flutter against his face. It's hard to argue when the contentment is bone deep.

*

If it had ever been a question, Kris would have thought that being woken up in the middle of the night for round five would have made him cranky. He would have been wrong.

"You're insatiable," he pants afterwards, heart still beating too fast and chest heaving. "For real."

He turns his head against the pillows to look at Adam who is far too awake and _happy_ for the late –early – hour, watching Kris with a huge grin pulling at his lips.

"It's all you," Adam says, eyes big and voice manic. "You're just so…"

"Tired?" Kris suggests, because he honestly doesn't understand how Adam even has the energy to smile.

" _Perfect_ ," Adam says, voice strangely intense.

Kris blinks a couple of times, trying to force the tired gears of his mind to work. "You're still scared, aren't you?" he says.

"Terrified," Adam agrees, but he doesn't stop grinning in that somewhat alarming way.

"Why?"

Kris reaches out, fumbling across the bed until he finds Adam's hand and links their fingers together. The way Adam latches onto the contact, gripping his fingers tight, is reassuring and disconcerting all at once.

Adam's silent for a moment, his thumb drawing a shaky circle over Kris's knuckles, before he finally speaks. "I guess I just can't believe that this is real," he says.

Kris rolls over on his side, watching Adam's face – open and vulnerable in the pre-dawn light leaking in through the windows. The searching, almost desperate, look in Adam's eyes hits him like a punch to the gut and he moves closer, close enough to wrap himself bodily around Adam, squeezing him tight.

"You're such an idiot," he murmurs, pressing kisses to Adam's cheek, his chin, his beautiful mouth. "How can you not know I'm all yours?"

"Because I've wanted you for too long," Adam finally confesses, the tenseness leaving his body with a whooshed exhale.

Kris squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his mouth against Adam's neck, tasting salt and sweat and the bitter lingering taste of the cologne Adam put on hours upon hours ago.

"I always had so many reasons," Adam whispers, clutching at Kris as if he's drowning. "So many reasons why this would be a bad idea, but you just kept chipping away at them, inviting me in, until I knew I _could_ have you and suddenly that was terrifying too."

"Why did you show up on my bus-step?" Kris asks, lips moving against Adam's skin.

"Because I missed you." Adam's answer is instant, irrevocable. "Because I always miss you when you're not around and I figured that it had to mean _something_."

Kris smiles, nosing at the underside of Adam's chin, feeling Adam's pulse tremble against his lips. "I love you," he whispers, quiet and certain. "And I've been _in_ love with you for quite some time now. This isn't sudden or unexpected. You _know_ that."

"Yeah." Adam sounds calmer. "Yeah, I know."

Kris closes his eyes, trying to find a way to fully formulate what he feels for Adam, what he's always felt for Adam, even when he had a ring on his finger that said he wasn't allowed.

"I see it like this," Kris eventually says, pulling away so that Adam can see his face. "Every time we meet I fall in love with you and every time we part ways I have to get over you. It's _always_ been like that."

Adam grins again, but this time it's genuine - _real_. "For someone who claims he doesn't like talking about his feelings, you're pretty good at it," he says, trying for nonchalant but he can't hide the shimmer to his eyes.

"When did I ever say that?" Kris asks, because he's pretty sure he's done nothing but talk about his feelings since he first met Adam.

"Oh come on. You even had a song about it on your first album."

Adam starts humming under his breath, the melody intimately familiar.

 _What do you want me to say that I don't say? What you want when it's written all over my face?_

"Ass," Kris mutters, pinching Adam's side until he trails off into giggles. "Why did I think this would be a good idea again?"

"Because yooou caaaan't help, falling in loooove with me…"

Kris also can't help his laughter, burying his face into Adam's chest and hugging him hard. "You're such a dork," he says, hopelessly delighted. He never imagined they'd be anything but this - weird, crazy, amazing, _happy_.

"Your dork now," Adam says, and the certainty in his voice tells Kris he's done freaking out. For now.

*

In the morning Adam kisses him awake, morning breath and all, and then pauses, poised above him, with the most peculiar look on his face.

"I want this to last forever," he says, eyes intense. "Can this be forever?"

"Yeah," Kris promises. "Forever."

They don't come up for air for another two hours.

*

They say goodbye in Chicago. Adam has to go back to the studio, to his real life, and Kris still has a tour to finish. They make promises between kisses, desperate and urgent, promises of a life together beyond the insanity.

"I can't believe it's been six weeks already," Adam says later, standing by the door with his bags packed. He's got his sunglasses on and a cap on his head. They both know that the disguise isn't going to fool anyone.

"Feels like forever and a minute," Kris answers, reaching out to twine his fingers into Adam's shirt. He doesn't want to let go just yet.

"I'm going to miss you," Adam says, pulling Kris into a tight hug.

"Yeah," Kris mumbles into Adam's neck. "So much."

They stand like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other's arms and their own heads, breathing in sync because somehow that became a habit.

"We'll make it work," Adam says when he eventually pulls away, holding Kris at arm’s length. "We're good at long distance."

Kris nods, trying to feel certain – brave – when it feels as if he's waving goodbye to his right leg, his left arm and half of his heart. It really shouldn't be this hard.

"Yeah, okay," Adam says, laughing but it sounds strained. "I'm just going to leave now."

Kris doesn't let go of his shirt.

"No seriously," Adam says, trying to wrench free. "If you don't let me leave I'm going to cry and that would be pathetic on so many levels."

Kris chuckles, forcing his fingers to let go. "But it would make me feel less pathetic," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets lest they try to reach out again.

Adam smiles, potent and brilliant, and darts forward to give Kris one last kiss. "See you," he says and then he's grabbing his bags and pulling the door open.

Kris watches him leave, smiling even though it hurts. They're going to be okay. _Perfect._ Eight years and a hundred songs later, they've finally found their way home.

~The End~

 _i carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere  
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing, my darling)  
i fear  
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

 _here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

 _i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_

 _e.e. cummings_   



End file.
